Never On A Sunday
by JenBurch
Summary: A town so haunted that thousands of its occupants upped and left, never to be seen again. What happens when Sam and Dean decide to investigate? And will they manage to get out alive, or will the terms of The Deal come to light a lot sooner than planned?
1. Chapter 1

**Special Note: **I have not forgotten about Warped & Twisted, I promise. I have half the next chapter written, but I have also got a few one-shots in progress and this story popped into my head. I'm bouncing around between a few stories right now, and life is getting in the way, so posting is slower than normal, but I promise I have not forgotten and it is still being worked on. Promise!**  
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**Disclaimer:** Not my show, not my characters, not my actors… but it was my dreams, so I lay claim to that and that alone!

A/N – So, funny story. I have been on a writing hiatus, though not by choice. It just wasn't happening for me at the moment. Very busy life right now, getting ready for the baby and everything but then, one night after much 'hinting' by kokoda2007, I had a dream. A Supernatural dream, my very favourite! Hehehe Anyway, I woke up from this dream more than a little freaked, though really the dream itself wasn't all that scary. A bit strange, but I blame the pregnancy hormones! LoL Anyway, I got up and started writing. Now, the beginning of this story wasn't in the dream, my fingers just kind of took over on me there. So this chapter has lots of angst and stuff, and it does lead into a hunt and the hunt is where the story begins really. But there are lotsa issues throughout, and they begin right here.

Summary: Bit of angsty, hurt Sam, gotta love that! But, this time… well, I cant say without giving it away, but I hope you like it.

Warning: For those unlucky people who haven't seen any of season three yet, there are some spoilers in here I think. Maybe more spoilers for season two than anything, but there are references to three. Anyway, just be warned that you read this at your own risk of spoilers. I was, up until recently, way behind on season three since every time I tried to watch it on TV I'd fall asleep on the couch before it started! Pregnant thing, anyway I'm now caught up again and able to stay up long enough to watch it, only to find out that the next episode we get will be it for a while! Bummer! This was supposed to be a warning about spoilers, right? Whoops! Okay, be warned! There are spoilers to season two, especially late season two, and some of season three.

Enjoy!

**Never On A Sunday**

**Chapter One: Storm Before The Storm**

Dean, immediately worried when he couldn't find his little brother, was pacing the room trying to figure out what to do next. His finger itched over the button on his phone, hanging between number one and number two – the buttons programmed to speed dial Sam or Bobby… he was getting worried enough that he wasn't sure which one he was about to call. He'd already called Sam a dozen times at least and there'd been no answer. Dean was sure he couldn't have gotten far, he had only left him alone for a few minutes while he checked them into a room for the night. But last time he'd lost Sam he'd walked into a diner and vanished into thin air…

Fear, no… panic was starting to overwhelm Dean. He knew the Yellow Eyed Demon was gone, he'd shot him himself, but that didn't mean there weren't still evil bastards out there that wanted to get their hands on his brother. How could he be sure that the threat had passed? Really passed? And the deal was breathing down his neck. He didn't want to die… he didn't want to go to hell… he didn't want to leave Sam behind to have to fight off whatever threat was coming his way. And he didn't want to give up his chance to have a life of his own.

He would never stop looking out for Sam, but now he knew he could do both… he hoped. But soon it would be too late.

"Sam, where are you?" Dean muttered through clenched teeth. He already checked everywhere he could think of. The parking lot was dark and deserted, all the cars that had been there were when they'd pulled in were still accounted for, which meant Sam hadn't heisted someone else's vehicle like he'd been known to do in the past. That meant that wherever he was he had gotten there by foot, Dean decided, pushing the possibility of a supernatural lift from some pissed off demon. Which left the diner, the pharmacy, the gas station, the deli and a handful of other stores he had already checked again.

And the bar… Dean remembered seeing a dingy little bar when they had driven passed, it had been set off the road a little and he hadn't checked it the first time! He'd considered his need for a drink after a long drive, but it wasn't somewhere Sam would frequent except under extreme duress or to drag Dean home, so he'd forgotten about it until now. He'd refused to let himself go in there when he'd first seen it and pushed it to the back of his mind, citing the fact that Sam had been acting a little off lately, like there was something bothering him and Dean had hoped to figure out what. Could he be in the bar?

Dean shook his head. No, it just wasn't Sam… but then again, he'd checked everywhere else so maybe…

Dean grabbed his keys and headed out of the room, a new determination in his step even as his heart pounded with fear. He'd been looking for Sam for two hours, plenty of time for him to get into trouble…

…and if Sam was at the bar and he'd gotten hurt somehow, Dean was going to feel really stupid for forgetting about it. Sam had sunk a few over the years, after all, he should've considered the possibility.

Dean set off across the street, pocketing his phone with the decision that if Sam wasn't getting pissed in the dingy hole, then he'd be calling in reinforcements within minutes.

**---**

When Dean finally found Sam, he was sitting – which was a relative term to say the least – on a stool at the bar with a half empty bottle of whisky in his hands. He looked… he looked like hell, Dean decided, certain he had never seen Sam like this before. Drunk yes, but like this? Not just drunk but… destroyed. Sam looked like he was toasting the end of the world, like a little boy who'd lost his puppy, like…

Dean shook his head of all the comparisons that ran through his mind and moved to the bar at the opposite end from Sam. He banged on it to get the bartenders attention, and the big man, mostly bald but who looked pleasant enough, turned to face him.

"The kid at the end of the bar, how longs he been here?" he asked, keeping his voice low.

"A little over two hours I'd say," the man told him. "Long enough to drown half a bottle of whisky. He gave up using glasses about thirty minutes ago. I'd stop serving him, but I don't need to… he ordered the whole bottle and set up shop. Still gotta settle the tab before he goes, if you're planning on dragging him out of here."

Dean nodded, pulling his wallet out. He was about to find some money inside when he saw Sam struggling to get up and just about falling over. Shoving his wallet back into his pocket again he raced to his brothers side and caught him before he hit the floor, pulling him back up to sit on the stool.

"Take it easy there, tiger," Dean told him, holding Sam's head carefully in both hands to get a better look at him. His eyes were bloodshot and droopy, a clear sign that he was well and truly gone from the sober land he normally frequented. He was shockingly pale, but what Dean hadn't been prepared for was the trickle of blood down one side of his face. "Sam, what the hell have you been up to?"

Sam pulled away from Dean as if frustrated at the interruption and scooped up his whisky bottle, taking a long drink while Dean sighed and stood up.

"Hey," he called to the bartender again. He headed over, handing Dean a beer. Dean accepted it, taking a mouthful as relief at just finding Sam took him over. "What happened to his head?"

The bartender shook his head and sighed.

"Darn fool kid got up to take a piss about forty five minutes ago. Remembered to ask me to keep his bottle for him, but forgot to walk through the doorway. He smacked his head on the wall, fell over and hit his head on the corner of a table on his way down," the bartender explained. He shook his head and looked back at Sam. "I thought he was holding his booze alright, but within about half an hour I realised he's not a typical drinker."

"What do you mean?" Dean asked.

"You, I'd believe, would down a few whisky's and be fine… but this kid wasn't here for a few quiet drinks, he was here on a mission," the bartender explained. "I don't know what his reasons were, but he was drinking for a reason just the same… he was here to get drunk. People who have a reason to drink, shouldn't. But then again, I shouldn't complain, he didn't cause a fight or anything, he just sat – sort of – in that seat and drank. And drank and drank and drank…"

Dean shook his head and pulled up a stool. He knew he had to get Sam back to the room to sleep it off, but he wasn't quite ready to make the trip just yet when he knew he'd have to pretty much carry him. Sam hadn't really looked at Dean yet, hadn't said anything to him or acknowledged his presence. Dean wasn't even sure that Sam could see anything beyond the whisky bottle he toyed with in his hands.

And cheap whisky too, Dean sighed. That stuff would melt a hole in your stomach and give you a blinding headache the next day that Sam wasn't going to forget in a hurry. He thought tequila was bad the next morning, whisky was going to feel worse than death.

Dean pulled his wallet out again and handed a fifty over to the bartender. He could see the man was calculating the change already, but Dean shook his head.

"Keep it, man," Dean told him. "For looking out for my brother…"

The bartender nodded and glanced once more at Sam.

"He's going to be in a world of hurt in the morning," he sighed. "I would've sent him home or something, but I didn't know where he was staying or if he was with anyone. Wish I could've done more."

Dean watched the man walk away and knew he was genuine.

"I'm pretty sure I've told you once before that if you disappeared on me again I wouldn't be looking for you," Dean said to his brother, staring at his beer while watching Sam at the corner of his eye. Talking to a dunk man, even Sam, was like dealing with a rabid dog… you just don't stare them in the eye until you've established its safe. Well, Dean decided, it would never be wise to stare at a rabid dog, but he decided the analogy still held some water.

He hadn't been prepared for Sam to answer him.

"I'm sorry," he slurred, a dark emotion edging his voice that Dean didn't immediately recognise.

Dean ignored it for a minute.

"You scared the shit out of me, Sam," Dean told him, turning to face him at last. "I didn't know where you were… you just disappeared. I leave you alone for five minutes and come back and you're gone! What the hell were you thinking?"

"I…" Sam glanced at him and then back at his hands as his fingers tore at the label on the bottle before him.

"Sam," Dean shook his head. "Last time you disappeared, I lost you… I mean, I really lost you… you died, man, how do you think it felt to turn around and find you gone again? I thought… well, what was I supposed to think?"

Tears were in Sam's eyes now, Dean could see it and he hated himself for it. Sam was obviously upset about something, trying to drown away something more than Dean could see and he wasn't helping matters by having a go at him about his disappearing act. Still, Dean couldn't help it. He had been really scared, more than ever before. He thought that watching Sam get stabbed, killed right before his eyes, holding him in his arms while the life left his body was more fear that he would ever feel… but he hadn't been prepared for the fear he'd felt when Sam was missing this time, or when he found him so deflated and drunk that Dean was sure that there was something more going on than Dean could understand.

Sam was going to have to talk to him eventually, because there was no way Dean was going to figure this one out on his own!

"Come on," Dean decided, getting to his feet and pulling one of Sam's arms over his shoulder, looping his other arm around Sam's waist. "Bed time for you, big guy."

Half way back to the motel, Sam began to talk a little, though not much of it made sense.

"I shouldn't have bothered," Sam murmured, focussing on putting one foot in front of the other. "I don't know why I bothered."

"Bothered with what, Sammy?" Dean asked, sure this was the beginning of some revelation and hoping he was prepared for the fallout.

"To be normal," Sam told him. "To have a life away from hunting…"

Dean didn't say anything, he wasn't sure there was anything he could say to that. The one thing Sam had always wanted was a normal life, and Dean had never really understood why that desire had overruled Sam's training and made him leave the hunt altogether, he would be lying if he said he didn't want the same thing. For Sam, sure, but also for himself. He wished they could be normal, he wished they could just hang out and sink a few beers without so much pain and horror in their lives that it caused them to down half a bottle of cheap whisky. He wished they could play pool for fun instead of for money…

"Why not?" Dean asked finally, not sure it was the right question but hoping it would at least keep Sam talking.

"Coz," Sam muttered, taking another swig of whisky. Dean wished he'd gotten rid of the bottle back at the bar, but had cared more about Sam's location than more booze at that point. When Sam tried to pull away from Dean a second later, however, and dropped the bottle he couldn't say he was sad to see it shatter over the ground.

What a shame, he thought bitterly. He realised that, as irrational as it was, he was blaming the bottle for Sam's current condition.

"Coz why?" Dean asked, grabbing a firmer hold on his brother and walking them a little slower now. Sam was glancing over his shoulder at the ruined bottle with a pout on his face that Dean hadn't seen since Sam had dropped his ice cream cone when he was five. "Coz why?"

"Coz all it does is get the people I love killed," Sam muttered again, his attention finally on the journey again.

Dean's heart skipped a beat at that and knew that there was a lot more to Sam's current angst than he realised. This was years, no, a lifetime of pain about to tip him over the edge and Dean wasn't sure he was prepared for that. How could he be?

"I've never been normal, have I?" Sam asked, glancing at Dean a moment. Dean winced as Sam's breath hit him full in the face but tried to hide the reaction from Sam. He wasn't sure why he bothered, since he was pretty sure that Sam wasn't even aware he had feet right now let alone anything that was happening around him. "I've never had a normal life…"

"I know you haven't," Dean told him sadly. "I wish you could have…"

"But I haven't… even before Mom died… I was never gonna have a normal life, I was already a freak. I was born a freak," Sam told him. "And Mom died because of it… because of me."

"Sam, we've been over this, that wasn't your fault."

"I know," Sam muttered again, his voice full of anguish. "But it doesn't change the fact that it was true… and after she died I was the freak who'd survived… and then I tried to have a normal life, go to school… Jess… I was gonna marry her, Dean. You know I was shopping for rings? I was only a couple of weeks away from being able to buy the one I'd picked out… I was going to propose… and she died."

"I know she did, Sammy," Dean told him, looking at the motel. It looked so far away and Dean wished that it would hitch up its skirt and meet him half way so he didn't have to drag Sam all the way. "I'm sorry…"

Sam sniffed.

"Then Dad… he died because of me, because of what I am."

"No, Sam, he died because of me."

Sam shook his head.

"No," Sam disagreed. "If I hadn't been the freak, he wouldn't have had to. None of this would've happened. He died to save your life, but he wouldn't have had to… and then, I finally meet someone I… you know… someone… since Jess, I haven't… I couldn't… but she was different, she was… I couldn't ignore her, I couldn't ignore how I felt and then, the minute she gets involved with me… I killed her, Dean."

"Madison," Dean realised, reading through all the hitches and stammers in Sam's voice to get to the meaning behind the words. "I know, Sammy…"

Sam shook his head.

"No," he whispered. "You don't… I walked in there, she was looking up at me with tears in her eyes… I was barely holding it together. I kissed her, I held her in my arms… she said… she said… and then I shot her. I killed her. All I wanted was to hold her and cry and I couldn't do it. I turned and walked away, I didn't want to see her like that anymore."

Dean swallowed the lump rising in his throat painfully, realising that Sam had never talked about what had happened in that room with Madison. Dean knew the basics – Madison, werewolf, gun, bullet, Sam, trigger, bang… but he'd never considered their last words to each other. He'd hoped that she could be the normal life that Sam had always wanted, even as he hunted… and his own heart had broken when he'd realised the whole thing was some cruel joke aimed to hurt his little brother. Again. His brother loved harder than anyone he'd ever known, and it always seemed to lead to heart break. How was he ever going to survive that?

The door was finally within reach and Dean pushed it open, pushing Sam inside ahead of him carefully. He let Sam drop onto his bed and set about taking his shoes off, deciding that Sam would be comfortable enough in his jeans and a shirt. He tugged off his jacket and tried to push him onto his pillows.

"And now you," Sam added, his voice barely above a whisper.

"What?" Dean asked, stopping at his brother's words. "What about me?"

"You're going to die, Dean," Sam told him, staring right into Dean's eyes. Dean would have sworn that, right then, Sam was sober in spite of the whisky that made up most of his blood volume. "You're going to die because of me, because I'm a freak."

"Sam, no," Dean sighed, wishing he could shove a pair of socks into his brother's mouth to shut him up but knowing that Sam would still be able to talk even then. When he wanted to talk there was usually no stopping him. "I'm not going to die because you're a freak. You're my brother, and no way I was going to let you die… we're going to figure this out, everything's going to be fine, I promise."

"How?" Sam wanted to know. "How are we ever going to figure this out? You cant help me find a way to save you – or you wont."

"No I wont, because if I do you're going to die and then what the hell am I going to do?"

"You? What about me? What am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to get up the morning after you die and live my life knowing where you are? Knowing you're there because of me? Knowing you're going to suffer for all eternity… because that's what hell is, Dean," Sam told him, anger flashing in his eyes. "How is everything going to be okay?"

Dean sighed and shook his head.

"I don't know, Sam," he admitted. "All I know is you were dead… I lost you, I failed you, and I couldn't leave it like that. I had to do something."

Sam looked away.

"Sam, I…" Dean hesitated, not sure he could finish his thought. Sam looked back at him and he knew he didn't have a choice anymore, he'd have to finish it or he'd face the Sam Winchester Puppy Dog Eyes for the rest of his life. "I'm sorry. I just couldn't stand to lose you and whatever time I have left I'm going to make sure you're safe. No matter what… please don't get mad at me for this."

Sam sighed.

"I'm not mad at you," he admitted. "I understand why you did it, and I'm not sure I would've done anything different… I don't know… but I can't let you go to hell, Dean. I wont… I'm going to figure this out."

The words barely out of his mouth, and Sam finally laid himself down on the pillows. Within minutes he was breathing evenly and Dean knew that he was asleep. He just hoped that this time it would be peaceful sleep.

Something had been bothering Sam for days now, and Dean had wished he could find out what it was. Now he knew, however, he wasn't sure he wanted to know. He knew that the deal he had made wasn't just to protect Sam and so far he had managed to avoid thinking about it. He had managed to pretend, even to himself, that he had made that deal as a heroic gesture, saving his little brother once again against all odds… Bobby knew the truth, he realised. He saw more than Dean gave him credit for.

Dean settled back into his chair and watched his brother sleeping with the knowledge pounding in his head that he had made the deal out of a desperate need not to be alone, to keep some of his family with him even just for a little while. To keep his brother with him because he was the only thing Dean had ever lived for. Losing Sam was worse than dying, worse than anything Dean could ever have come up with, and he had to fix it…

Only now, he realised, that in doing so he was dooming Sam to live through what Dean couldn't. Losing a brother, living without a brother. And, in Sam's case, he'd have to live knowing that his brother was in hell, had sacrificed himself. Dean had struggled with that after their father had died, it had torn him apart almost as much as John's final words to him had.

Dean kept his eye on Sam for as long as he could, but finally his lids began drooping and he felt himself nod off. The last thing he heard was Sam murmuring something.

"I'm sorry…" Sam muttered in his sleep.

Dean fell asleep with the realisation that the apology wasn't for disappearing and getting drunk… it was something a lot darker and deeper than Dean had realised, and it was something he had doomed Sam to live with the rest of his life.

**---**

Sam awoke the next morning with a headache that made him feel like his head would just fall right off his shoulders, roll into traffic and get run over by a semi and that it would be an improvement… knowing his luck, however, it would merely encounter a little old lady on a push bike and he would never be put out of his misery.

Pulling himself to a semi-sitting position, Sam realised his life was about to get a lot worse as his stomach churned painfully. The back of his throat burned with bile and the bitter taste of bad whisky when he pulled himself out of the bed and stumbled toward the bathroom. He could hear the shower running, but he knew he didn't have time to wait for Dean to finish his shower. Sam felt the vomit rising in his throat and as he burst through the door it was already filling his mouth and making the long trek from his six foot four frame all the way down to the toilet before he even had a chance to drop to his knees and close the distance.

"Whoah, Sammy, privacy!" Dean cried in shock when the door swung open. He stuck his head out from behind the old shower curtain and saw Sam kneeling in front of the toilet, retching painfully and sympathy overtook the initial shock. Dean shifted uncomfortably, not sure what to do in this particular situation. "You okay?"

Sam made a sound to indicate how stupid he thought that question was but didn't pause in his attempt to deflate his body right into the bowl from the inside out.

"Stupid question, I get it," Dean agreed, stepping back under the stream of water and hurriedly washing off the last of the soap. He switched off the water and quickly grabbed a towel to wrap around his waist before stepping over to Sam. He laid one hand on the back of his brother's neck and felt fire burning through his fingertips. Sam was hot, really hot, and Dean wasn't sure why. It could just be from the physical effort of being so violently ill, but Dean knew that bringing that heat down could only improve the situation so he grabbed a smaller towel from the shelf and running cool water over it before laying it on the back of Sam's neck. "I'll be right back, Sammy."

Sam clung to the toilet bowl as if it were the only thing stopping him from falling down an endless abyss and wished that the onslaught of cramps, vomiting and fever would just leave his body and hurry up about it. He had been drunk before, he had been hung over before, but this was so much worse than anything he had ever experienced.

When Dean returned a minute later, Sam was relieved. Not just relieved that he was now wearing jeans and a shirt, but relieved just to have him there. He hadn't slept well during the night, he had been plagued by dreams about what it would be like to live without Dean, what Dean was going to go through. The dreams about what hell was like were so vivid that it left Sam wondering how he could possibly know anything about it. How did he know what it would be like? How did he know… any of it? But he had woken convinced that he had seen hell, been there, experienced it and it left Sam with a lot more questions than he could ever hope to find answers for.

Dean laid his hand on Sam's shoulder gently.

"You feeling okay?" he asked, his voice sounding hollow.

"Like… well, being hit by a truck would be more fun," Sam told him, his voice hoarse from the strain his throat had been through. He hesitated, wanting to ask Dean about his dream but knowing that he couldn't lay that burden on his brother. Especially after…

"You ready to get up?" Dean asked. "You couldn't possibly have anything left."

Sam nodded and accepted Dean's help in getting to his feet. He flushed the toilet and winced as the noise pounded through his brain. Why whisky? Why had he ordered whisky?

He washed his hands, ran cool water over his face and sipped some from his hands to wash out his mouth. He wasn't sure he could handle the thought of toothpaste just yet, that would have to come later he decided. He took the towel from around his neck and wiped the still cool cloth over his face before stumbling out of the bathroom ahead of Dean.

He fell onto the bed and groaned.

"So," Dean began, sitting on his own bed and staring across at Sam with obvious concern. "You want to tell me what last night was all about?"

Sam glanced at him and sighed.

"Not really," he admitted, rolling onto his side when his stomach protested to the position on his back as it pulled on his muscles. "Just stupid I guess."

Dean shook his head.

"You were going on about some stuff, Sam," Dean reminded him. "Stuff about… well, stuff that's happened over the last couple of years, stuff about… you know, about the deal… you want to talk about it now you're sober?"

Sam shook his head and closed his eyes, hoping that would put an end to the subject. He heard Dean get to his feet and hoped that he'd won the battle. When a blanket was pulled up over his shoulders, he was sure it had worked.

"You get some more sleep, little brother," Dean told him. "We'll get going when you're feeling up to it."

Sam muttered a response.

"Don't want any upchuck in my car, after all," Dean added, the smirk he must've been wearing on his face sounded clearly in his voice. "I'm going to go and get some breakfast, and I'll be back soon. I wont bother asking if you're hungry."

The door closed softly behind Dean as he left, and Sam moaned in response. Memories from the night before were flooding his mind and he knew that more had come out in his drunken stupor than he had intended. Dean knew what it had been about, and Sam knew Dean didn't really want to talk about it… but he felt he had to. After all, they didn't have much time left and Dean would want to make sure that Sam was okay.

But he would never be okay again, Sam knew, if he didn't save Dean from this deal. There had to be a way.

Sam pulled himself to sit against the headboard, moaning as the movement sent a new wave of nausea through his body. Pushing it aside, he grabbed his phone and hit the speed dial for Bobby.

"Hey Bobby," Sam greeted the older man as he heard his voice. "How's things?"

"I should be asking you that, Sam," Bobby answered him gruffly. "You boys usually call for a reason, after all… is Dean okay?"

Sam sighed. Bobby Singer knew too much. He was one of the few people that could read him and his brother. He saw straight through them.

"Dean's fine," Sam assured him. "He's off getting breakfast."

"And you?" Bobby asked, suspicion in his voice.

Sam hesitated.

"Bobby, how much do you know about crossroad deals?" Sam asked him.

"Not a lot," Bobby told him. "I mean, outside the usual… they're binding, people usually get ten years… you onto something?"

Sam shook his head to say no before realising ho useless the gesture was.

"No," he admitted. "I just… I had this dream last night and it's kind of getting to me. I need to find a way to get Dean out of this deal, Bobby. It's not a question anymore, it's not a possibility… I have to get him out. I have to. There's no other option. My brother can't go to hell, Bobby, he just cant."

He heard silence at the other end of the phone and knew that Bobby was considering where to go with the conversation. Sam was trying to keep his voice even, to keep the overwhelming fear and guilt out of his voice but he was certain that Bobby could still hear it.

"Sam, I don't know if there is a way… I'm sorry, I really am but there's just…" Bobby hesitated. "I know it's not what you want to hear, but I'm not sure there's anything we can do. Short of opening the gates to hell and hoping Dean climbs out like your Dad did, and even then that would let out hundreds of demons again… he'd still be dead, Sam, and I know that's not what you want."

Sam knew Bobby was right, and he knew that Bobby hated to tell him that but Sam had always been able to rely on Bobby for one thing: honesty. He would always tell him what others were too afraid to say.

"Bobby, please," Sam pleaded. "There has to be something. I mean, Dean got someone out of a deal once before, but the demons really want Dean's soul so I don't think there's anything they're not willing to do. Maybe we could just… I don't know, there must be something."

"I've been reading everything I can on the crossroads demon, but I've never heard of anyone getting out of a deal before… I mean, aside from that one time. But I guess if its been done, it can be done again? I don't know how, and there's certainly nothing we can give them that they would want more than Dean… except…"

"Except?"

"It's not an option, Sam," Bobby told him. Sam knew what Bobby was talking about and he let it go, knowing there was nothing to be said about it and storing the information as Plan B. "I've got some more texts coming in the next day or two, I'll keep reading. If I hear anything, I'll call you."

Sam nodded. Another futile gesture, he knew, but he didn't bother to correct it.

"There's something else, isn't there," Bobby stated, patience wearing thin.

"Maybe," Sam admitted. "Have you ever died before? Even for a minute?"

"No," Bobby answered immediately. "Come close, but never actually died. Why do you ask?"

"It's nothing," Sam assured him. "Just wondering."

"Sam…"

Sam sighed again. He knew that he had to talk to Bobby about it, particularly since there was no way he was ever going to get away with staying quiet about it now. And if he didn't talk to Bobby, Sam was almost certain Bobby would ask Dean about it, and Sam couldn't risk that.

"I just wondered if you'd ever heard of any legit experiences after death," Sam explained. "Like what they saw? Where they went? Stuff like that…"

"Why you asking?" Bobby asked.

Sam shrugged. He seemed to have given up on verbalising all his responses.

"Well, there've been the classics. You know, the bright light and everything, but I personally think those are a crock. I've never heard of anyone dying for as long as you did and surviving it… if you can put it that way," Bobby told him. "Why?"

"This dream I had," Sam explained before he could stop himself. "It was just so… vivid, so real, I just wondered if maybe it…"

"What?"

"Maybe it wasn't a dream?" Sam offered lamely.

"You think you're remembering something from when you… died?" Bobby asked carefully. Sam was sensitive about the subject. It had raised issues with him that he couldn't even begin to make sense of and so it usually ended up with him shutting down and refusing to talk about it.

"I don't know, maybe?" Sam admitted.

"What did you dream?" Bobby asked. The silence at the other end of the phone told him he had already pushed too far. The young Winchester didn't want to talk about the dream, he just wanted to know if it was possible, or what others had experienced. "Okay, look… why don't you guys head over here? Sounds like you could use some down-time."

"No," Sam told him. "We have a hunt. Some creepy town not far from here is supposed to be haunted. Kind of a Dudleytown kind of a place. Anyway, we're going to swing on through and see what we can find out."

"You be careful, Sam," Bobby warned him. "Places like that are better left alone. They're notoriously haunted, but they also attract all kinds of nasty things. You can't go in there thinking you know what you're going to find, because you wont. There's no way of knowing what you're going to find."

"I know that, Bobby," Sam told him. "I gotta go, Dean will be back soon."

Bobby sighed.

"Okay, Sam," he agreed. "You call me anytime, okay? And stop in after this hunt."

"We will," Sam assured him before hanging up. He leaned against the pillows, a little more comfortable with the knowledge that Bobby had some more texts coming in. Maybe they'd be able to figure this out after all…

Maybe they could save Dean.

**SPN**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Not my show, not my characters, not my actors… but it was my dreams, so I lay claim to that and that alone!

**Chapter Two: Seems Like A Nice Place For A Hunt**

It was two days later when Sam finally announced he was feeling well enough to hit the road again. Spending one day throwing up everything he ate or drank, unable to hide from the headache that threatened to send his brains leaking out his ears for relief, and the cramps that assaulted his body constantly he was so beyond exhausted that he needed another day just to sleep! Dean was unusually nice about it, not even bothering to tease him about dirty ash trays or rotten eggs – which Sam was grateful for, but still remained confused as to why Dean was being so understanding.

Dean's own experiences with hangovers weren't the reason, Sam was sure of that because otherwise he wouldn't have teased him about it the last time he'd drunk to excess. There was something else behind the supportive air that Sam recognised now in his brother, but he couldn't put his finger on it. His Dean-O-Meter was obviously jammed, he decided. The alcohol was getting in the way of his being able to read his older brother.

But he would, he assured himself. He would figure out what it was about Dean that had caught his attention. It was almost as if…

Sam shook his head, unable to finish the thought and grasp onto what revelation had been about to present itself. Instead he jumped off the bed with his bag slung over his shoulder and hurried out of the room to follow Dean as the order to get moving came out of his brother's mouth.

As supportive as Dean had been, it had not come without a price. He had been stir crazy after the first day, knowing that they were supposed to be leaving and weren't and was unable to hide his frustration. Sam hadn't slept all that well in the end since Dean's constant tapping and prowling was irritating enough to keep him up, but add to that the fact that taking care of the 'patient' was the only thing to occupy his time, Dean had become overly attentive.

'Drink some water Sammy.'

'Why don't you get some air, just sit outside for a few minutes, might make you feel better.'

'You should really have something to eat.'

'Try some lemonade, that might help.'

'Do you need anything?'

Sam was about ready to toss his brother out on his ass when he's finally found some stupid old show on the decrepit TV to keep himself amused. Sam had slipped into a restless, yet grateful, slumber.

And now they were sitting in the Impala and heading north at a speed that Sam wasn't sure was entirely legal, but it managed to keep Dean smiling so he said nothing. Besides, he was used to Dean's interpretation of the road laws, and had learned long ago not to say anything. Dean seemed to relax on the open road, where nothing could reach them and they were probably safer than any other time. Sleeping was never safe, you were vulnerable and still in one spot, but on the road well… you weren't.

Sam read the brochure quietly while trying to ignore Dean's incessant and out-of-tune humming. Older brother's, he decided, had a finely tuned ability to irritate the hell out of their younger brothers. Dean had never been good at sitting still and it was one of those annoying things that he had attained over the years. He was always a quiet tormenter, too. He would tap and poke and nudge Sam until the younger sibling snapped and lost his temper… only to be the only one heard and sent to his room for being noisy and irritating and, well, for yelling at his poor older brother who only ever tried to help him. Sam, somehow, had ended up sitting in his room feeling guilty for yelling at Dean when Dean had to do everything for him and yet, as an adult, Sam felt mostly frustration at the memories. And a little extra guilt that he still couldn't explain.

Dean, on the other hand, never seemed to mind getting Sam in trouble when they were young. Then again, Dean had never told him that he'd felt bad about it, he'd usually just join him in their room an hour later with cookies and milk and hang out with him until their father said he could come out again. Thinking about it now, Sam settled his nerves around Dean's humming and realised that his brother had been trying to make it up to him.

Revelations about the past can hit at any time, Sam realised sheepishly, wishing he had realised what Dean had been doing sooner. It used to annoy him at first, but then he'd feel better and find Dean's presence comforting. Now, however, he wondered how much longer he would have that comfort. If he couldn't figure something out soon, there would be no company on the road, no one who would listen to him, watch his back and annoy the hell out of him in one breath.

Dean had told Sam that he wanted him to have the Impala after… well, just after. He'd started teaching him about cars the way their father had taught Dean. He knew that Dean wanted to make sure he could take care of the car and not get himself in trouble by being stuck out in the middle of nowhere with some pissed off spook on his tail and no way of fixing the problem. That had felt pretty good to Sam, knowing that Dean would trust him with the Impala, that he would want to leave the most precious thing he owned to him, but it fell on a dull heart when he realised what the Impala was.

It was a solid reminder of what was to come. It was going to be Sam's car, but only if he couldn't save Dean from the stupid deal he'd made and only if he allowed Dean to go to hell. Sam didn't want the car, he didn't even want to get in the car anymore because whenever he did he remembered that it would be his one day and it just made his chest hurt.

He didn't want the car… he wanted his brother. If Dean went to hell and Sam kept the car, he'd be behind the wheel, driving down the road… and know that Dean was supposed to be the one sitting in that very seat.

---

"You okay?" Dean asked, glancing over at Sam. He slowed the car to an easily manageable speed when he saw the look in Sam's eye and realised Sam was anything but fine. "Sam?"

Sam just shook his head and continued to stare out the window, obviously avoiding Dean's gaze. Dean didn't like it, a quiet Sammy was never a good Sammy. It usually meant he was pining, suffering over something. Hurting.

And as much as Dean hated to admit it, he hated to see Sam hurting. Especially now, when he was going… away. He wanted to go knowing that Sam was okay, that he'd be safe and able to continue, that he wouldn't fall apart.

That he, maybe, wouldn't need a big brother looking out for him anymore.

"Sam? What's wrong?" Dean tried again. When Sam still didn't answer, he sighed and kept his attention on the road. This was obviously one of those rare moments when Sam wasn't in the mood to talk, he was in the mood to stew on whatever it was that was bothering him. Maybe if he got him talking about the hunt, he'd loosen up, Dean thought. "You wanna tell me about this town?"

Sam cleared his throat and looked back down at the brochure in his hand.

"It's apparently a town that's so haunted everyone left," Sam began.

"Sounds too familiar," Dean shuddered, muttering under his breath as memories of the last town like that they'd been too flooded his mind. The fear, the dread, the relief at finally seeing Sam staggering toward him, clearly exhausted… some guy Dean didn't recognise rushing up behind him… driving a knife into Sam's back before Dean could reach him… holding his little brother as the life left his veins, trying to convince Sam and himself that everything would be fine with a few stitches…

And then that moment of harsh reality when he realised that Sam as gone, he'd lost him, and his greatest fear was finally realised.

Sam was dead… he was dead… there was nothing left, his eyes wouldn't shine anymore, he'd never hear him laugh, never hear his voice tainted with the frustration of a little brother about to tear into him for doing something stupid. Dean had lost the most important person he'd had in his life… and the only family left that he had.

Dean felt his chest tighten at the memory, pain flooding his stomach the way it always did when he remembered how painful that short time without Sam had felt. He usually tried not to remember it, pushing all thoughts of that time out of his mind but when it hit it usually hit pretty hard.

"There's apparently one woman left in the town," Sam was saying. Dean tried to force his attention to stay on Sam's words, trying to focus on anything but the memories that assaulted his mind and the pain that assaulted his body in response. "She is a bit of a loner, apparently. She refuses to leave her mother or something like that."

"Is her mother alive?" Dean croaked, trying to sound as normal as possible.

"Nobody's said," Sam answered, his tone clipped. "Either way, it doesn't matter. Either her mother doesn't want to leave either, or she's buried in the graveyard attached to the town and the daughter refuses to leave… seems strange to me, but hey whatever right? Families usually are strange to me."

Dean shot Sam a look but didn't say anything. They hadn't grown up with much of a family, he knew that. He'd been there, but he'd also clung to each family member with every fibre of his being. Sam, on the other hand, couldn't help feeling bitter about what they had missed out on. Dean couldn't honestly blame him anymore, as the life their father had lead and dragged them into had managed to claim everyone he'd ever loved.

His mother had died because of some evil, demonic son of a bitch who was after his little brother…

They hunted it. That's what they did, until…

The same demonic bastard had killed their father…

Then another one of the demons prodigy's had killed his brother…

And now Dean… Dean was going to hell so he could bring his brother back to life… the only question was, how was he ever going to manage to stop something from happening to Sam now? How was he going to keep Sam safe when he wasn't there to protect him? He didn't want evil to take the sole remaining member of his family whether he was alive or not, but there was nothing Dean could think of to stop it from happening.

How could he stop the hunt from killing Sam the way it had killed everyone else Dean loved?

"Did you hear what I said?" Sam asked, his voice harsh enough to make Dean realise that Sam was growing annoyed with having to repeat himself. "Whether this chick is there for her mother's grave or for her mother isn't the point. It's not her that matters, it's the town. People have been reported to go there for a number of reasons, but until recently there have just been some minor, supernatural experiences reported."

"What happened recently?" Dean asked, gripping the wheel tighter as he fought nausea at the thought of something happening to Sam.

Again.

"There was a group that went camping there, hoping to see some of the apparitions others have seen, but something must've changed because it's gone from a few rattling chains and ghostly calls to someone dying," Sam sighed, closing the brochure. "He was apparently flung around the campsite in front of his mates before being lit on fire and hung from a tree."

"Sounds like his mates weren't all that friendly," Dean suggested, always finding some other possible answer for a hunt. He often sounded like the Scully in the team, but he was never a sceptic. He just knew that by poking holes in a subject Sam would be more likely to tell him some other details. Usually he hated that, hearing all the nitty gritty details, he just wanted to get in there and hunt the evil thing and go home… but today, well, he had to get Sam to talk.

"The cops ruled out their involvement," Sam told him shortly. "Other than that, it used to be a Little House On The Prairie type of town by all accounts."

"Little House On the Prairie?" Dean scoffed. "You used to watch that?"

"No, they say that in the brochure," Sam told him, showing Dean the brochure quickly, where it made reference to the show in bold typing.

"Wow, that's just a little… pathetic," Dean shook his head. "Still, sounds like a nice place for a hunt, I guess."

"Pull up over there," Sam instructed, ignoring Dean's comment. "That's the gift shop and that bridge there leads into the town."

"They have a gift shop for a haunted town?" Dean asked, confusion furrowing his brow. "That's just crazy."

"Well, you know what you think about people versus demons," Sam reminded him as the car stopped out the front of the shop. Sam climbed out of the car, unfolding his long frame, hearing the cracking in his back as he stretched. He and Dean headed inside and Sam immediately headed for the counter to question the old man running the shop.

Dean watched him, concern turning to amusement as he saw the old man reading a newspaper. He finally looked up over the paper, peering through tiny spectacles. Leaving Sam to deal with the old man, Dean focussed on the munchies the shop had on offer, some of which he hadn't seen before.

---

Sam headed back outside to the Impala to find Dean sitting in the drivers seat with the door open and the music blaring. Sam had been searching through a section of the store that held a selection of books on the towns history, and after he bought two of them that seemed to hold the most extensive information he'd turned around to find his brother was already out of the store. It didn't surprise him to find Dean stuffing his face with junk food.

"Do you ever think of anything else?" Sam asked, rolling his eyes as Dean attempted to answer him through a mouthful of what Sam could only assume was fudge. When Dean couldn't get any words through the sugary treat he simply held up the packet to offer Sam a piece. Sam ignored him and rolled his eyes again. "Do you want to know what I found out from the old man?"

Dean tried to speak but finally gave up and nodded silently.

"He said that the town was deserted about a hundred years ago, that everyone that lived there took off except for one family who stayed," Sam explained. "I guess the woman who lives there now is a descendant of the family. Anyway, no one has lived there since and there have been sightings of figures walking the town. None of them seem to be able to cross the bridge though, so that's good information to have."

Dean mumbled and nodded his head, holding one hand in a thumbs-up signal to show he agreed with Sam's assessment.

Sam responded by once again rolling his eyes. Dean was really starting to piss him off. Why couldn't he just take this seriously? He was the hunter, he was the one who wanted to continue the hunt when Sam had wanted a normal life. Yet he seemed to leave Sam to do all the research and all the hard work while he sat back and stuffed his face, only to jump in at the end when the battle began. That was the bit that Dean lived for, anyway, so it was no surprise he didn't want to be left out of that, but the rest of it? Everything else that went with hunting? Sometimes he tolerated it, but mostly he left that bit to Sam stating that Sam was the boy genius and therefore he would just be in the way.

And Sam was fed up with it.

"So, what's the plan, Dean?" Sam asked. Dean grabbed his soda bottle and took a mouthful, trying to swallow the fudge so he could respond. It didn't work. "You have no idea, do you? What? A town full of angry spirits? That's going to be a little harder than your basic salt and burn don't you think?"

Dean swallowed hard and began to choke. He took another mouthful of soda and trying to catch his breath.

"This is insane, Dean! You never take this stuff seriously! You think everything's a game? You think this stuff, this research, doesn't matter?" Sam snapped, his voice rising. He didn't want to yell at Dean. He didn't want to fight with him, but the fear and anxiety he felt at the deal getting closer, was overwhelming. His anger at being left behind to live with the knowledge that Dean's soul was suffering eternal damnation because of him… and the fact that Dean just seemed less and less interested in taking the remainder of his life seriously was really beginning to bug Sam. It was really getting to him.

Dean opened his mouth to argue, but Sam cut him off.

"You know what?" Sam began, his chest tightening as his head screamed at his mouth to stop talking before he said something he'd regret, but he was unable to stop himself. "I'm so tired of doing all the leg-work, Dean. You've always dumped this crap on me… and now I'm doing this and trying to figure out a way to save your ass at the same time? And you're not helping me with any of it! You're not even trying! You just want to stuff around, have fun and eat candy? Well, that's just great, but for the rest of us… the ones who are going to be left behind after you go, it just sucks! We're trying to save your life and you just don't seem to care!"

"I might not have much time, Sam," Dean finally managed to get out. "I'm sorry if I want to enjoy what time I have left."

"I told you I'm not letting this deal hold, Dean. I'm not letting you go, I don't care what anyone says, I'm going to figure this out," Sam yelled. "But it would be a lot easier for me if you would just stop acting as if you don't care!"

"What do you want me to do?"

"Be my brother, damn it!" Sam snapped. "Just be there. Just act like you care. If you don't care about where you're going to end up for you, at least care about what that's going to do to me!"

"What?"

"You haven't stopped to think, even for one minute, what any of this actually means have you?" Sam growled, shaking his head. "You've doomed yourself to an eternity of pain and suffering, Dean. You did that for me, to save my life. But you haven't saved my life, not really. Instead you've doomed me to spend the rest of my life and whatever might lie beyond, knowing where you are and what you're going through. It wasn't worth it, Dean! It wasn't! Why did you have to do that? Why did you have to sacrifice yourself like that? I just don't understand!"

"Sam…"

"I know, I was dead, and I get that it sucked for you," Sam interrupted. "But what about me? What about what I have to live with now? You didn't do this for me, you didn't do this to save me… you did this so that you wouldn't have to be alone! You just didn't want to live without…"

"Without what? My little brother?" Dean asked, bitterness in his voice that matched Sam's.

"Yeah, and instead you're making me live without you! You did the same damn thing that that guy did when we first found out about the Crossroads Demon after Dad died. You had a go at him for sacrificing his soul to save his wife's life. You asked him how he would feel if his wife knew how much it had cost him. How was she supposed to live with that? Well, what about me, Dean? How am I supposed to live with it, knowing where you are?"

"Sam, please…"

"I have a right to be pissed, Dean."

"I know you do," Dean admitted, sighing deeply. "But I had no other choice, Sam."

"You did have a choice, Dean. You could've let me die… hell, I was already dead! You could've just left it alone!" Sam shouted. "It would've sucked, sure, but you would've moved on with your life, just like we've always had to. You would've survived and you wouldn't be stuck in this stupid deal!"

"No, I couldn't," Dean argued, raising his own voice. "I can survive a lot of things, Sam, but not that. Never that."

"You're a selfish bastard!"

"Yeah, and you know what else? You're alive, so I win!" Dean shouted right back at him, anger mixing with the painful memories of everything he had lost such a short time ago and everything he still had to lose.

"Go to hell!"

The minute Sam said the words he felt like something had slammed into him. The shock of his own statement left him speechlessly gaping at Dean, fear and pain churning in his stomach as if the careless words meant Dean would vanish before his eyes and the deal would be done. He had felt so angry about the deal that had Dean's soul trapped, but it had never really been anger at Dean, it had been anger at himself for letting some asshole get the jump on him and putting Dean in this situation in the first place.

He had never really been surprised that Dean had made the deal. After his father's own deal had gone down, Sam remembered asking Dean if he had been seriously considering making a deal to get his father released from hell. Dean had never really given him an answer, but the truth had hung between them and sucked the air out of Sam's lungs. He had feared what might happen if it ever became an option again, but he had tried to avoid thinking about it…

…and then he had learned the truth.

The careless words thrown away without a thought to the meaning they now held, the way an atheist thanked God when something good happened. Seconds passed and Sam realised that he couldn't have said or done anything more to hurt Dean if he had poured gasoline on him and lit a match. Dean's face betrayed the hurt that Sam had caused and Sam wondered how he would ever live with himself knowing that Dean had made such a sacrifice for him and then stood by while Sam had thrown it in his face.

A phrase that had never had meaning before, now hung between them with a depth to them that neither brother was able to cope with. Neither of them could verbalise it and neither of them would ever really be able to explain what those words had done to them – to hear them, or to say them.

When Sam had first found out about the deal he had wanted to yell at Dean, to be angry with him, to beg him to tell him it wasn't true. But Dean had stopped him with simple words… asking him not to be mad at him. That simple statement was so filled with pain and anguish that Sam realised how much Dean had suffered when he'd held Sam in his arms as he'd died. He'd heard the painful truth behind those words, that Dean had had no other choice. Letting Sam die – to stay dead – was never an option for Dean, and now…

"God, Dean…" Sam began, his voice catching in his throat. But instead of saying anything else, Dean got back into the car and closed the door, starting the engine and waiting. Sam realised that Dean wasn't going to talk about it, that he had stepped over a line that neither of them had ever thought to draw visibly, and now Dean was… hurt. Sam had never seen him quite like that before.

Silently Sam walked back around the car and got in his seat, closing the door. He glanced over at Dean to see him pulling a wrapper off what looked like a stick of gum. Shoving the gum in his mouth and chewing, he pulled something else out of a wrapper. It was a fake tattoo that Dean quickly fastened to the inside of his wrist as if he were too busy with this glorified sticker to talk to Sam about the argument.

"Dean…" Sam tried again, hoping he would listen to him, but instead Dean gunned the engine and headed for the bridge. Sam closed his eyes briefly as they hit the bridge, wishing he could rewind the last ten minutes and take everything back.

He had held true to his promise to Dean, he wasn't mad at him… he never really had been. He was angry with himself and Dean was taking he brunt of it. It wasn't fair, it was damned cruel and Sam hated himself even more for doing it, but he couldn't seem to deal with it any other way.

Sam knew that if something happened to Dean right at that moment he would never forgive himself for uttering those words… how would he live with himself if Dean died and went to hell for him with those words echoing in his mind?

He had to fix this, there was no other choice.

Sam opened his eyes and turned in his seat to look squarely at Dean, fixing that 'I will not be denied' little brother look on his face, the one that always managed to get Dean to look at him and talk to him.

"Dean…"

Dean turned his head slightly to look at Sam, but before either of them could speak the strangest thing – and the most unexpected – happened.

Dean vanished before Sam's eyes…

Sam didn't have a chance to think before the car started to lose control on the road beyond the bridge. He reached over and grabbed the wheel awkwardly, trying to slide across the seat to take possession of the vehicle, but possession seemed to be the right word, just the wrong meaning as it pulled in the opposite direction of where Sam wanted it to go…

…and steered itself straight into a tree.

---

Sam had no idea how much time had passed when he pried his eyes open against his better judgement. All he wanted to do was to lie there and let the darkness keep him, hold onto him, but he couldn't. Thoughts of Dean flooded his mind, images of Dean's face when they'd argued… the look in his eyes right before –

Sam sat bolt upright. Before? Before what? Sam glanced around him, nausea swimming in his stomach and mind, bile rising at the back of his throat. Oh God, Sam thought. Dean! Dean was gone, he was nowhere to be seen, he was…

"Dean!" Sam called, raising his voice as much as he dared. His head throbbed in protest, but Sam ignored it and tried again, using all the voice and breath he could muster. "DEAN!"

Dean… he had… he was… Dean was gone… he'd vanished…

That wasn't possible, Sam thought. A human being didn't just vanish into thin air, it just wasn't possible. People talked about it in standard missing persons cases all the time, but this? This was different… this was… not possible! People didn't just disappear!

"_Go to hell!"_

Sam heard his own words echo in his mind and shuddered. What if that's what had happened? What if, for some reason, his words had sent Dean straight to hell? What if…? No… no way… it couldn't be, it didn't work like that, did it? There were hellhounds, weren't there? Creatures that hunted down their prey and dragged them screaming into the deepest depths, isn't that how it worked?

"DEAN!!!" Sam called again, climbing out of the car and standing on shaky legs beside the car. Glancing around him he realised it was dark out now, meaning he'd been unconscious for at least six hours already, maybe longer. He glanced at his watch and saw that the time had stopped at 2:04pm. He wasn't sure how that was significant, if it was at all… either way, Dean was still missing and his watch didn't hold the answers. "DEAN!"

Sam tried to gather his thoughts, tried to get himself to concentrate, but he couldn't. His mind was awash with memories and regrets, of words he couldn't take back, that he couldn't make right, and having hit his head in the accident…

Accident? There'd been an accident, Sam thought, glancing around again. He was standing outside the car but couldn't seem to remember how he'd gotten there. His head hurt… he'd been hungover… was that today? Yesterday? Had he been driving, is that why they'd crashed? If so, was it possible that Dean had been thrown from the car? He might be hurt, that could be why he couldn't remember anything…

"DEAN!" Sam called, though this time he heard a weakness in his voice that hadn't been there before. His head was spinning and he held onto the roof of the car to steady himself with one hand while the other hand searched his head for injuries. His fingers slid across the side of his head slick with blood and he knew he was in trouble.

He was hurt, concussed, and there was no way he could fix this on his own. What the hell was he supposed to do now?

"Dean?" Sam gasped again, as his legs gave out and he tumbled to the ground. He fumbled weakly for his cell phone, pulling it from his pocket and hitting the button to call Dean. After listening to the mechanical voice at the other end telling him that Dean's phone was out of range, it finally occurred to him to end the call. His fingers fumbled to call the only other number he knew and when the gruff voice answered he had to fight off tears of relief.

"Sam?" Bobby's voice came through, loud and clear, but to Sam he just sounded far away. "Sam!"

Sam felt his body slump further to the ground and struggled to keep his eyes open. He couldn't fight the cold that was threatening to take his body over, the pounding in his head that he needed desperately to get away from and finally the phone slipped from his fingers, landing mere inches from Sam's lips.

"Bobby?" Sam whispered, unable to gain any strength to speak louder.

With a pained sigh, Sam lost the battle altogether…

---

Bobby kept the line open while he tried for another five minutes to call out to Sam, to get his attention. Something wasn't right, he knew, something really, really bad had happened. It was always bad when one of the boys called on him and as much as he wished they would stop in for a chat once in a while the thought of them turning up on his doorstep scared the crap out of him. It usually meant something dire was happening and he was starting to worry that they would finally come across something that he just couldn't fix.

Finally realising that Sam wasn't going to answer, however, Bobby hung up the phone and stared at it as if it held all the answers. Bobby knew where the boys had been headed, and given the history of the town – what little he knew himself, anyway – he knew that it wasn't going to be an easy hunt. There was a reason hunters hadn't bothered to investigate the sightings in the town of Little Creek, and Bobby wished now that he'd argued stronger against Sam and Dean going there.

Even the most experienced hunter didn't bother with towns that were so haunted people just upped and left… and from what Bobby had just read himself, there had already been at least one death.

Bobby collected up as many books as he could that he thought might help him in this particular situation and shoved them in a bag without his usual care. He grabbed weapons that he might need, extra salt, and ran for the truck. He didn't have time to mess around if Sam had called. Bobby was sure he had heard Sam's voice briefly, and all he had made out was his own name. Sam had sounded weak, which meant one thing. He was injured. Possibly now unconscious… and where that left Dean, Bobby didn't even attempt to guess.

All he knew was that the boys needed him and he was going to get to them as quickly as possible. Still, Little Creek was about a six hour drive and though he would normally manage to do it in four his truck wasn't it's usual old reliable self. Still, he had no option, it was the only working vehicle he had and he sure as hell didn't have time to stop and fix it now.

He hadn't had time to do much of anything, lately. He knew that Sam was drowning under the weight of the impending Deal that threatened Dean's life – and soul – and Bobby was struggling with it too. He would never understand how these Winchester's could just throw themselves in the pit like that, leaving their family behind to deal with it. But, whether he understood it or not, that was the position they were in – that Dean had put them in – and he was going to do everything he could to help Sam get him out of it.

Dean was not going to hell, no way! And if there was something right here and now that was threatening to send him there ahead of schedule, he was going to put a stop to that too. If Sam was calling, it meant that Dean wasn't able to… and that spelled a whole world of trouble.

Finally getting the stubborn truck to turn over, Bobby left the yard and headed south to get to Little Creek in as little time as possible. He hoped he'd get there in one piece, but the truck was in dire need of a service and some repairs, and he wasn't entirely sure it was going to make the trip in one piece, let alone in six hours.

One way or the other, however, Bobby would get to those boys… even if it killed him.

SPN

A/N – Chapter Two delivered as promised! Hope you liked it! The hurt!Sam snuck up on me – as I learned from a good friend of mine today that he tends to do sometimes – but I went with it and whoah, look what happened?!?! Bobby turns up! How'd that happen? I didn't expect to hear from him again for a while, but he will not be denied… and as for Sam, well he likes throwing himself around, so I just have to sit back and indulge! Well, don't I?


End file.
